


Dance With Me

by Cynthia_Cross



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Abbasid Caliph Joe, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Artist Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Based on a Tumblr Post, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Guard Nicky, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, I wrote in an accidental euphamism, I'm so so sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani wears eyeliner, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova wants to wear eyeliner, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Sexual Tension, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Vague Historical Aspects because I don't want to get things wrong, it's pretty funny actually, not really - Freeform, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cynthia_Cross/pseuds/Cynthia_Cross
Summary: The Abbasid Caliph, Yusuf al-Kaysani, was a vehement patron of the arts. Nicolò di Genova, would often watch the noble’s nimble hands as they danced across the parchment paper, his lithe fingers always stained with charcoal.  The Roman guard would accompany the kind ruler everywhere he went, his shoulders always tense and muscles ready to spring into action.--or--Based on the following tumblr post by @the-modern-typewriter"Would it kill you to relax?" the monarch teased their guard. "Probably," the guard replied. "Likely it would kill you too. That's rather the point."A smile flashed across the monarch's face. I'll risk it," they said, and held out a hand. "Dance with me."
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Thanks for clicking! A few things before we get started.
> 
> I want to thank my good friend for beta reading (here on ao3 Serendipity8832)
> 
> Serendipity8832 also helped bounce ideas back and forth with me regarding how I could make these two kids' worlds collide since I was dead set on making Joe an Abbasid Caliph. 
> 
> If there are any inaccuracies you've spotted, please feel free to let me know! I don't want to offend anyone and I want to make my stories as historically accurate as possible.
> 
> Anyways, I had so much fun writing this fic. It turned out longer than I originally intended. It kept pouring out of my brain and this is what ended up happening! 
> 
> Some of the main songs I listened to that helped inspire the tone of this work are And The Waltz Goes On by André Rieu and Exist for Love by AURORA.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Abbasid Caliph, Yusuf al-Kaysani, was a vehement patron of the arts. He was a kind man, as humble as he was honest, however, many did not agree with how much money he spent commissioning artists of all kinds; painters, sculptors, weavers, authors, poets, musicians and such. The Caliph himself indulged in the arts. Nicolò di Genova, would often watch the noble’s nimble hands as they danced across the parchment paper, his lithe fingers always stained with charcoal. Nicolò would constantly follow the man to his easel, watching him paint, the finest pigments from across the land staining the well-kept curls of his beard and splattered across the golden bronze of his skin that always seemed to be glowing with beauty. His smile of crooked teeth was brighter than any star Nicolò knew. The Roman guard would accompany the kind ruler everywhere he went, his shoulders always tense and muscles ready to spring into action. As ready as he always was for a confrontation, his favorite days were the weekly journeys the Caliph took to the street markets. He was always searching for the finest paints or discovering a new local musician, looking to find inspiration for his next artistic endeavor.  


Nicolò very much looked forward to these days. 

The guard quickly got to know Yusuf, not the Caliph Yusuf al-Kaysani, just Yusuf. The man was an excellent ruler. Commanding, proud, fierce, and forever loyal to his people. However, Nicolò found himself enamored more with the kind, generous, artist who would teach him Arabic as they made their way through the market. He would point to objects, teaching new vocabulary to Nicolò. He insisted that Nicolò speak to him in Arabic as well, though Nicolò would throw around Zeneize words occasionally in response. Yusuf had started to pick up Zeneize faster than Nicolò had Arabic. If it were anyone else, Nicolò would be jealous. 

Nicolò walked the halls surrounding the Caliph’s art studio. He passed the open arches that led inside, hearing Yusuf’s joyous laugh echo in the grand room. That laugh made his stomach quiver and his chest tighten. His face began to feel so warm. Nicolò hoped he was not coming down with an ailment. If he brought sickness into the Caliph’s palace after the man had been so kind, Nicolò would not know what to do with himself.

As he continued to patrol the hallway, he noticed a scent that reminded him of the first time they had met. Of course, it had to have been in the markets, the place where he would always see the man the happiest. Nicolò had been browsing the markets, pleading for work to anyone who spoke a lick of Greek. He remembered the smell of roasted potato and carrots, seasoned with what he now knew to be called za’atar, a mixture of ground herbs. He remembered the scent as heavenly to his barren stomach and aching muscles. There he was, a starving foreigner, excommunicated from the only home he ever knew. His travels took him to a bustling city in the region of Dar al-Islam. To the Catholic Church, he was already a godless heathen for enjoying the company of another man in his bed, so what did it matter if he found himself in the home of a people who worshiped a god different than his own? He could recall how desperate he felt, begging and pleading for charity when he came upon a man who stole his breath with his beauty. 

Nicolò was awoken from his reverie, a familiar voice beckoning him from inside the art studio. His hand rested on the hilt of his long-sword, sheathed and hanging on his left hip. His thumb stroked the pommel of the sword, smiling as he took one last whiff of the lovely scent wafting from the kitchen corridors before he turned around, marching back to the intricate archways of the door frame.

Nicolò stepped inside the Caliph’s beloved art studio, the comforting scent of spices replaced with the heady aroma of fine pigments. The Roman’s eyes immediately trained on the Caliph Yusuf al-Kaysani. The man, although wealthy, wore a simple tunic and trousers of a desert beige. Although plain, the cloth was stained with all the pigments Nicolò could have ever imagined possible. Among the colorful splatters were smudges of charcoal. Nicolò was not surprised. Charcoal was one of Yusuf’s most prized possessions. He adored sketching with it and wore it thinly around his eyes. How Nicolò wished the Caliph would show him how to adorn the charcoal around his own eyes. 

The Caliph’s smile, Nicolò thought, would make the sun look dull. Like Nicolò thought, Yusuf’s eyes were lined with charcoal pigment, making his dark eyes breathtakingly piercing. The fluttering in Nicolò’s stomach returned. When Yusuf’s eyes met his, Nicolò always felt that everything about him was splayed open before the Caliph, language boundary be damned. Nicolò stood tall and tense, his jaw clenched and ready for action. Yusuf had his full attention.

Yusuf stood up from his stool, setting the verdant pigment down gently on the side table. He stepped to Nicolò, his eyes smiling as he began to laugh. 

“My sweet Nicolò,” The Caliph began, his hand reaching out to his cheek. Nicolò’s breath hitched as he felt his charcoal stained fingertips caress his cheek. Nicolò’s chest was so tight, he thought that if he took a breath it would explode. “Would it kill you to relax?” 

Oh. Nicolò blinked. Before he could think, he let his thoughts spill from his rosy, full lips. 

“Probably. Likely, it would kill you as well. That is rather the point.” His Arabic was not the best, he knew this and Yusuf did too, but the Caliph understood every word he said. He looked rather proud of Nicolò’s progress for a moment before he began to chortle until he began to snort. He could feel the Caliph’s warm breath brush his skin. A smile peaked the corners of Nicolò’s lips, his ears beginning to burn. 

“I’ll risk it,” Yusuf’s hand cupped Nicolò’s face, his thumb caressing the pale, supple skin beneath his eye. Nicolò felt a warmth rise deep in his belly. Yusuf’s hand pulled away as quickly as it had been placed there. He took a step backwards, outstretching his hand to the other man. “Come, dance with me, Nicolò,” Yusuf behested him in Zeneize, winking playfully. His lips revealed his shining teeth in a smile when he felt Nicolò’s warm, calloused hand grasp his own. 

Yusuf began to hum a tune the two were both familiar with. They had heard it on their last excursion to the markets together. Nicolò and Yusuf became entangled together, drifting across the studio as they danced. Yusuf pulled Nicolò close to his chest, his hands gripping Nicolò’s upper arms, leaving charcoal handprints across his exposed skin. Nicolò’s breath hitched at the chill of the Caliph’s silver and golden rings on his flesh. Yusuf’s lips brushed against his temple before he spun Nicolò around and he gasped as he felt a ghost of a kiss against his skin. His entire body felt hot, his face flushed, wanting to feel the scratch of his beard on his skin again. Yusuf pulled him in from the spin, Nicolò’s back pressed against the Caliph’s chest. His bronze arms wrapped around Nicolò, one hugging his upper chest and the other around his stomach. Yusuf buried his mouth and nose into the base of Nicolò’s neck. He continued to hum the tune and swayed them. Nicolò shuddered from the vibrations he felt from Yusuf’s sweet voice and from how the soft curls of Yusuf’s well-groomed beard tickled his skin. He whimpered softly, his hands clutching onto Yusuf’s wrists. He threw his head back to whisper in Yusuf’s ear. His humming turned to soft chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to Nicolò’s neck.

“Your eyes are made from seaglass and your skin is more radiant then the most coveted of pearls,” Yusuf whispered to him, punctuating his poetry with kisses and nibbles to Nicolò’s neck. Nicolò let out a heavy sigh, responding in a soft voice, “You are the sun incarnate--” The Caliph’s teeth grazed Nicolò’s shoulder, causing him to gasp before he could finish.

“If I am the sun, then you are the moon,” The Caliph Yusuf al-Kaysani placed another ghost of a kiss on the corner of Nicolò’s pink lips, “And what a ravishing moon you are.”

Nicolò felt the warmth deep in his belly grow hotter as Yusuf’s hands began to roam and explore his body in a way Nicolò had wanted him to since they met. Nicolò’s whimpers became quiet moans, encouraging Yusuf’s hands by guiding them. 

“How can I continue to worship my god when you are here in my grasp. You tempt me towards idolatry.” Yusuf murmured, his hands being pulled down to touch below the belt that held Nicolò’s sheathed long-sword. Nicolò let him explore, leaning into Yusuf’s touch. “You are so beautiful. I’ve ached for your touch, longing for more than what you’ve given me. Since you first took my hand when we first met,” Nicolò pushed himself back into Yusuf, his breath catching in his throat when he felt Yusuf’s strong and solid body against him. 

“It is torturous to have you with me every second of the day and yet,” Yusuf’s voice lowers to a breathless whisper, “I was not allowed to touch you, to not be able to feel your lithesome body against mine. Only to watch, never to hold.”

Nicolò’s hands covered Yusuf’s as they danced across his body, their hands moving together seamlessly in near silence. Nicolò began to hum with Yusuf, it was familiar to him, but he did not pick up the arts as quickly as the Caliph did. Even so, Yusuf did not criticize or deride. Instead, he continued the tune and pressed another kiss to Nicolò’s throat, now spotted with bruises. Nicolò’s face was flushed in pleasure, sweat beading on his strong brow. His head rolled back, his cheek pressed to the side of Yusuf’s head. He buried his face in Yusuf’s tight curls, inhaling the comforting scent of sandalwood and amla oil. 

“My moon,” Yusuf whispered, removing his hands from the erogenous parts of Nicolò’s body that Yusuf had quickly found and abused. Nicolò hummed quietly.

“I like that,” Nicolò responded, catching his breath. Yusuf smiled brighter even though his cheeks were sore. He twirled Nicolò around again, his soft, painter’s hands finding Nicolò’s rough, warrior ones. They stood close, chests pressed together. Yusuf brought a hand to Nicolò’s chin. Yusuf held Nicolò’s chin between his thumb and fist. Yusuf’s stained thumb swept across Nicolò’s bottom lip slowly. 

“May I kiss you?” Yusuf’s voice was hushed, barely louder than a breath. 

“Please,” Nicolò pleaded, his hands that clutched onto Yusuf’s pulling him closer towards him. Their lips met fiercely. They embraced as they kissed, their bodies pressed up against each other and intertwining. When their lips broke apart, Nicolò rested his forehead against Yusuf’s, their gaze refusing to break. 

“Shall we continue our dance?” Nicolò finally broke the silence, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smug smirk. Nicolò was blessed by Yusuf’s festive laughter echoing the empty studio. Yusuf took Nicolò by the hand, pulling them both towards the ornate archways. 

“Of course. I think my quarters shall do nicely,” Nicolò began to laugh with Yusuf, their love reverberating throughout the palace halls.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for getting to the end! Again, if there are any historical inaccuracies, please feel free to let me know! I am all about constructive criticism! I also do not want my ignorance to offend others. Feel free to message me if I got something historically inaccurate, I'm always down to learn something new!
> 
> Drop some kudos, a share, and/or a comment!  
> Peace!


End file.
